The Lonely Ghost
by NakanoHana
Summary: A short story about a little ghost named Roxas, and his unusual friendship with a mortal boy one Halloween night. Happy Halloween 2013! Rated for inexplicit macabre.


This was a prompt based on an early Casper cartoon I saw once. I was working on it last year but didn't get it out in time. I hope it's okay and that you enjoy it. It's longer than a drabble, so I'll give it its own little story plot, but it's drabble-esque. Happy Halloween 2013! Try not to OD on candy and sugar stuffs. Or booze. Whatever your poison is this Oct 31st. XD

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All Hallow's Eve. The sun began to set on the lonely little town, casting hues of red and purple over the hill. Trees rustled softly in the early evening breeze, as the scent of autumn and burning wood carried from each and every house, as the denizens prepared themselves for the coming night. Parents bustled their young children inside; boys and men alike scurried, girls clinging to their mothers' skirts nervously, and the littlest ones caught between frightened and awed, chattering excitedly.

It had come again, the evilest day of the year. The day when all Hell was to break loose, so to speak. Restless spirits would wander the land, terrorizing any who lingered outside of their homes, or those who kept no holy relics in and above their doors. The shadows would only be dispelled by the coming of dawn, and the gentle knell of church bells hanging high in the steeple.

Old wives tales, you say? The people of Twilight Town knew better. Over the years, many children had been snatched away, dragged to their deaths by demons and devilish consorts. The beasts were seldom caught, but now the priests shared wards and relics, ensuring that all ghost and ghouls would pass over the righteous, too repulsed by saintly virtue and divine protection. They would instead pray on the unsuspecting, the foolish, and their wicked, kindred spirits.

As the last families bolted their doors tight, the sky grew dark, and the harvest moon rose overhead, gorgeous and full, like a cold coin hanging in the sky.

Nothing stirred immediately. The clouds slowly moved over the sky, winking out the light of moon and stars, shadowing the ground until it crept over the town cemetery. Old, worn and forgotten names, rarely revisited by the superstitious living, began to glow a ghostly white. And then, the first few restless dead popped from the dirt and moldy stones, raising their heads and hands skyward. Bones, spirits, and sealed demons mingled, greeting one another as old friends in a tavern.

"Ah, what a glorious night for a haunt!"

The cold night wind did nothing to chill or deter them; it passed through them unnoticed, save for the soft howl that carried on the air. Any spectator to this grim sight would surely have keeled over in fear and died.

A rather large ghost moved to the head of the procession, motioning to all of them as he whipped what was once long, thriving ebony hair to the side.

"Come lads! The night is young, and you drag your feet!"

"Speak for yourself, ape!" A shrill female voice shrieked, much to the others' amusement. "You're holding us up! We have til morning before we are cursed to sleep once more! Let's be off already!"

"Here here!"

The large one scoffed. "Begone then, you worthless scum!"

Laughing, the ghosts and demons all took to the air like a flock of birds. The skeletons shook the last of dust and earth from their decaying bones, chattering teeth as they shambled forward. Deathly pale and blue-rimmed eyes glowing red in the dark night, the party descended upon the town, hoping to terrify the waking and haunt the dreams of the rest.

All save one.

As the last of the unholy creatures faded into the dark, the sounds of screams and wails rising in their wake, a single pale blonde head popped out of a solitary grave upon the hill, casting about nervously for a moment before floating up from the ground slowly, shoulders hunched, revealing an ethereal, willowy boy of fourteen.

Roxas was the littlest of the ghosts, at least in this particular cemetery. Certainly the youngest to pass. He did not remember his life as a human, but by nature, he was much closer than any of his ill-mannered neighbors. As far as he could recall, without bitterness. He still maintained many diverse human emotions; he preferred to spend his time observing the living, all the beauty therein, and for a soul that had not moved on to either Heaven or Hell, his was unusually gentle.

The other ghosts never understood. Larxene called him spineless, a worthless little maggot of a ghost, and Xaldin, well… he refused to acknowledge the little spirit at all. Roxas was the smallest and biggest disgrace to ever rise from Hunter's Hill, and those that didn't tease and torment him left him be, which suited him much better. He had no desire to frighten or harm, though he did often wish he could speak to more friendly folk, at least once in a while. Roxas found himself bored at best, and terribly lonely at worst.

If only there were others like him. The ghosts in this cemetery seemed well content to dwell on earth. "Why should we atone?" they would often ask. "Why should we behave, be kind to mortals? It's done no good by you." They were convinced that they would wander forever, cursed to this half existence, so they sought to do anything they pleased and damned the consequences. They couldn't pillage or plunder treasures, but they could harm and frighten the living, and that gave them bitter satisfaction, especially ones whose gravestones sat unattended, forgotten. Like his own.

The boy sighed heavily, sitting back against his little headstone and even passing through it, listening to the sounds of the night. He tried to block out the other, less pleasant sounds. Drunkards and children would brave the night for various reasons, but the ghosts did not limit themselves to those few. They did not fear wards and relics until they felt the pain of them, and from there, they simply went away, on to the next souls who may or may not possess the same protection.

Around the witching hour of the night, the boy rose upon the little hill and stretched, scratching idly at the back of his head. He felt no sensation there, and indeed, the hand passed right through his head, cleanly, but it was just….habit. Like something he had done before all this...

Turning away from the town, Roxas decided he would go down the hill, to the little stream near the edge of the woods. It was quiet there, and very pretty in the moonlight, if only it would come out again.

Animals scurried and shrieked as he passed on his way, making the little blonde sigh again. With a soft shake of his head, he pressed onward, wondering if ghosts could still cry. Not even the crushing loneliness could bring tears to his eyes, but sometimes his little soul ached with the need, and he felt all the more hollow for it.

In the distance, he heard the sound of a wolf. He had never seen one, only heard of them from others. They were nuisances that killed livestock and broke fences, and the townsfolk would go out hunting them, to drive them away.

Focusing his wandering thoughts, the little ghost kept flying on his way. It didn't matter what animals or people he came across. No one could hurt him, and most were too scared to try.

Roxas smiled sadly as he hovered closer to the stream. It trickled softly on rocks and leaves, branching out in little ribbons to the sides. It was very pretty, even more so when the moon was out. Then the stream would turn glassy, and glow like a soft-hued firefly. So beautiful.

Just as he was about to sit down- if one could call it sitting- Roxas jumped as he heard a rustle in the bushes. He whipped around and looked behind him, not sure what to expect.

"Who's there?"

Out from underneath the brush crawled a boy; a tall, redheaded boy who looked just about his age, if a year older. Roxas starred, transfixed, as the boy whipped back a mountain of spiky red hair, revealing a nicely angled face and narrow, cat-like eyes. They were deep green and seemed to shine with an intense light of their own. The blonde only starred a moment, wondering to himself how they could be so beautiful, when the moon was still hiding….

"Are you really a ghost?" the other boy asked, squinting at Roxas. The blonde nodded absently. "How curious…And here I thought they would be large and terrifying."

The ghost blinked. This human hadn't run screaming from the small clearing the moment he had seen him. Instead he was…shrugging off a pack of some kind, eyes wide with a genuine curiosity.

"Y-You….You're not afraid?"

The redhead shook his fiery mane again, letting is swish behind his head, back and forth. It really was very long and impressive, and Roxas's eyes moved to follow it, overcome with the almost obsessed urge to touch it. Test its softness.

"Why should I be? No offense meant, but you're not terribly threatening." Roxas leveled a pout at the boy as he laughed aloud, but he couldn't for the death of him figure out why it irked him so. He'd never intended to be menacing or scary, so shouldn't he be glad?

"Taking your spectral countenance for granted, eh?" The redhead took a step closer, practically grinning from ear to ear. "Don't think anyone can handle the awesome, terrifying sight of you, can they?"

The blonde hovered back, bewildered. "Uh...no. I've just never spoken with a…a mortal before. They always run away from me."

"Oh I see!" the redhead nodded excitedly, clapping his little cold hands together. "Do you scare many men, or only little children?"

"I don't try to scare anyone," the ghost replied sullenly, casting his gaze to the ground. "You're strange."

"Fine words, coming from a ghost." The boy sat down and began rummaging through his bag, pulling out a small canteen and a wrapped loaf of bread. "My name is Axel. I've been traveling for many months now, searching for a nice forest to settle in."

Roxas titled his head slightly. "Why a forest? Why not a town?"

"Before he died, my father taught me about it. How to live, what to eat, what to do in winter. If the town is odd or doesn't suit me quite right, I can make my living out in the woods. The way my father, grandfather, and great grandfather did. Besides, Father couldn't leave me much money when he passed." Shoveling a large piece of bread in his mouth, he added, "I'd offer you some, but…well..."

Roxas nodded. "Have you met many ghosts before?"

"None. You're the first." He took another large bite, muffling his words around the heavy bread. "I saw you, and at first I was shocked. I thought it must be a dream. But you didn't disappear, and you looked…nice enough. So I followed you. By the by, what's your name?"

"My name is Roxas. I rest in the cemetery just over that hill." He pointed behind him.

"Do you have a last name?" Axel asked.

Roxas shook his head sadly. "I don't know. I'm sure I did, but it was worn away years ago."

"And you can't remember?"

"I can't remember anything before I woke up there." Waking up was the best way to describe it really. Just a wink, and then he was there. The ghost boy didn't know how or why, but he'd figured out things pretty quickly after that. It had been almost forty years ago.

"Forty years? That's a long time to linger. " Axel titled his head curiously. "What's it like to die?"

"I don't know." As curious as he was, perhaps that was for the best. Death itself was not feared in the mortal town, per say, but the little ghost had heard from both the living and the dead how painful and slow death could be, if it wanted. He shuddered to think of it, and he had no clues, other than that he was a ghost, not a walking skeleton. That had to mean something, but he had no idea what.

Axel shrugged, moving on to other questions, only some of which Roxas could answer. It was almost surreal for the little ghost, talking so casually and yet personally with a stranger; a mortal. Eventually, the conversation turned back to the redheaded conundrum himself, and the boy filled the air with many stories about his home, his father, and just about everything he could think of. He was very chatty, Roxas quickly discovered, but he didn't mind at all.

"When Father died, there was nothing to tie me to that town anymore. I could have stayed, I guess, but I always wanted to live in the woods. Father did once, many years ago. The people weren't very friendly anyway. So I've been hiking for three days. I've been eating berries and whatever I can catch; small things, like squirrels."

"And this life suits you?"

"I certainly think so," the other boy replied, scooting back and propping himself against a nearby tree. "I know I'm not the most personable sort. I prefer the solitude of nature."

"Don't you ever get lonely?"

"From time to time, yes, but loneliness is far better than being crowded. All those noisy, nosey people." Axel made a disgusted face. "Spare me."

The blonde looked down sadly then, frowning.

"I miss being able to speak openly. To make friends with people, even with the noisy ones. All of the other ghosts think I'm strange, not wanting to scare anyone. They heckle me about it, but when they leave me be, I just sit up on that hill alone and watch the town."

"So you're an oddity, even among ghosts." Axel laughed. "Then I feel truly honored to have met you."

Roxas gave the barest hint of a small at that. But he really did feel sad. He hated feeling outcast and alone, and he couldn't see how anyone would willingly choose to live that way. Or die that way, for that matter.

Seeming to notice his mood, the redhead sobered, smiling apologetically.

"I'm sorry. Really I am. I really do feel honored to meet you. Of all the ghosts I could have met, you seem the most wondrous and wonderful."

The other boy blinked at him, almost startled. If he could have blushed, he certainly would have.

"R-Really?"

"Yes! And if I am to live in this vicinity, I would be even more honored to call you a good friend and neighbor."

"A…friend?"

"If you would accept me, that is."

If he could have, Roxas was sure he would have wept tears of joy at that moment. A friend. Someone who would talk to him, not ridicule or harass. Someone he could play with, although the little ghost had no idea how that would work. What kind of games could he play?

Another thought occurred as the little ghost then, draining away his once bright, wide smile.

"Oh…I would love to be friends, but it will be difficult."

Axel frowned then. "Why?"

"Because…I am allowed only a short time. Ghosts can roam the graveyard after nightfall, if they wish, but we cannot leave hallowed grounds until this one night, and only for this one night."

Again, Axel asked, "Why?"

Roxas sighed heavily. "I don't know. All I know is that something just….stops us from leaving. And if, on this night, the sun rises on a ghost above ground, he or she will be lost forever." He had come across this ghastly situation only once in his many years of haunting, and it was terrible to hear. No one knew where the souls went, but they never returned to the graveyard afterwards.

"Then, can I come see you?"

"If only you could. I fear the ghosts will not let you near. They are all more frightening and malicious than me." The blonde did not add that the ghost would surely also persist in tormenting him as well. He could not escape them until Halloween.

For a moment they sat in silence, Axel thinking heavily as Roxas slipped back into sad, dark thoughts. For once, something he had wanted seemed plausible, but now it was being ripped away from him. He felt he should be more grateful for the simple chance to talk to Axel this night, but he couldn't help it. Roxas wanted more. He wanted a friend.

He wouldn't care if he was stuck on earth forever, so long as he had someone…

Suddenly, the two boys were startled out of their thoughts by a low, rumbling sound.

Just up the bank, there appeared two narrow, yellow eyes, black pupils fixing upon the boys. More pairs of eyes appeared behind the first, creeping forward from the shadows, growling. In the far distance, one unseen beast raised a blood-curdling howl, raised again and again by the others, drawing closer, until there was a chorus of them.

Wolves.

"Wh-What are these doing here?" the blonde cried, rising instantly. Axel scrambled to his feet, almost tripping.

"Damn wolves! They must have come down the mountain looking for food!"

Roxas turned to him, eyes wide with fear. "Axel, run away! Go!"

The redhead cursed, casting about on the forest floor for some defensive tool.

"Damn! I left my rifle in the clearing!" He grabbed a hand-sized stone and threw it at one of the wolves, striking the ground just in front of it. "Go away!"

"Never mind that!" the other boy cried, motioning him away. "Run! Scale a tree! O-Or run for town! I will hold them off!"

Axel reluctantly began to back away, eyes wide as the wolves advanced slowly, purposefully, some licking their chops. They were thin, with rough, mangy fur, with glistening claws and eyes. Five approached from the front, but several more were moving through the brush, trying to ambush from the sides. If Axel didn't hurry, they would surround him!

Roxas turned to the oncoming beasts and puffed up his chest. With feigned bravery, he stood as firm as he could. He shrieked and wailed and waved his arms like mad. He imitated everything he had seen the other ghosts do. He tried to shift his spectral shape, but he had no practice, so his spirit just faded and ridged at the ends.

The wolves did not seem deterred, however. Their eyes, though momentarily watching him warily, were slowly locating the living target. Axel was skinny, but certainly meatier than Roxas.

"Axel, go!" the blonde cried again. "Please!"

Axel nodded and turned, running for the path leading into town. With vicious snarls, the beasts on either side sped after him, bounding with a deadly grace. The others followed immediately, ignoring the strange little ghost trying in vain to block their path.

Terrified and desperate, Roxas braced himself as best he could, intent to ram one wolf back. He winced at the sight of its fierce jaws, even though he knew that it couldn't harm him. Swallowing his fear, he threw himself at the creature, but it passed through him, not halting to even reflect on the apparition it had passed through. Several others jumped and ran through him, equally undeterred.

"No!" he cried, racing after them as fast as he could. He had to help Axel!

The wolves raced half way up the hill and to the right, turning until they entered the forest again. Roxas was right after them, all the while berating Axel for going back for his gun rather than into town, where he might be safe. But then, the people would be abed or locked in doors, and there was no guarantee that anyone would help the redhead. If the ghosts weren't afraid of Roxas, would they be unafraid of the other ghosts as well?

Roxas flew through the trees, cutting ahead of some of the wolves. But he couldn't see Axel up ahead anymore. He hoped the boy had found a tree, or that he was just unusually swift.

If only he hadn't come here tonight.

Up ahead, Axel screamed, and Roxas felt a stab where his heart used to be. They couldn't have caught him. They couldn't have!

He shouldn't have come. He put this nice mortal in danger.

By the time the pack had reached the clearing, it was over. Roxas came to a stop, as more wolves raced past him, joining the ones that gathered around a body. Axel's body.

Roxas sank to the ground and almost went right through it. He covered his mouth, horrified, unbelieving. Axel has been killed, and now the wolves were coming to feed. They were going to maul and eat what was left of him.

The first of many ethereal, spectral tears escaped his eyes, and the boy clenched them shut, trembling.

"GO AWAY!" he screamed, rising and shouting and swinging his arms. He flew to the body and tried to knock the hungry beasts away, but they only growled and went back to their meal. "NO! STOP!" He clawed for their eyes, but his hands just passed through them, barely even leaving a chill on what he touched. Nothing stopped them, any more than his earlier efforts to save Axel. He was helpless.

But he couldn't just watch them defile the redhead. Even if he was already gone, he couldn't stand to see his friend treated this way. So he tried and tried again, only succeeding in agitating the wolves, but neither side could affect the other. They kept on eating, and Roxas fought on, his eyes clenched tight against the sight before him.

He struggled for a long time. It was nearly dawn when the pack felt inclined to depart, leaving what was left of Axel cold and torn and bloody. As they left in single file, Roxas fell to the ground, sobbing into his hands. Just when he had thought he was drying up, more tears poured from his eyes. Before, he had wondered if he was capable of crying, and now he couldn't turn it off, nor quell his raging emotions. The loneliness he had felt before was nothing compared to this. He had no heart, and yet he was being crushed.

He dared not look at the body anymore. The blonde turned away and continued to cry, not even noticing the beginning of sunrise.

He didn't care anymore.

"Roxas?"

With a gasp, his head snapped up, looking back to where the voice had come from. Axel's body.

And there he was.

Roxas looked upon his now spectral counterpart. White as a ghost, with a ghostly tail that floated just above ground. He looked see-through, but still had a full head of blazing red hair and narrow green eyes. Those eyes, as of right then, were wide and confused, but slowly softening as he regarded his fellow ghost.

"A-Axel?" Roxas moved forward, then hesitated. He hurriedly wiped a tear away.

"So...ghosts can cry," the redhead said simply. Then he smiled sadly. "Good to know, seeing as I am one now."

"You're alive! N-No, dead! You're dead!" the younger boy cried, still unbelieving.

"Well, it's not what I pictured for myself, but it'll do." Now Axel grinned, as he moved forward and embraced his stuttering friend. He couldn't feel him, really, but it was a familiar gesture. "Now we can be friends forever, eh Rox?"

He wasn't angry. He wasn't cursing the blonde's name for getting him killed. Axel was just…shrugging it off.

More tears began to pour from blue eyes, and the blonde choked a laugh.

"Y-Yes, although I think I'm broken now. I can't turn these off." He motioned to his eyes and shook his head. He didn't deserve Axel regardless.

"You're not broken. You're just human. Well, whatever is left of you is." Axle shrugged. "We should go, right? Before the dawn?"

Roxas nodded, then gasped. "Oh, but what about your body?" He looked at it again, wincing slightly.

"We'll leave a trail pointing to it. It's not terribly far in. I'll be buried soon enough and get a headstone of my own, but until then, can I share your plot?"

The blonde smiled warmly. "Of course."

Under these rather unfortunate circumstances, the two ghost hurried back to the graveyard, safe in the knowledge that if they should have to wait an eternity to pass on to the next life, each of them had wonderful friend to pass the time with.

Fin.

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Sorry about imagery/dark stuff in this. I try to leave out the "gory details" as best I can, but I understand it's still not pleasant to picture. Axel had to die somehow for this to work. Poor kid.


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